The Night Should Be Feared
by Girlscout1987
Summary: A moment of awareness. "You’re like them." Horror. Pain. Disbelief. Hate. "I’m not. I hope I’m not. I had no other options…I’m so so sorry."
1. Barbarous Bastards Are Waiting

**The Night Should Be Feared **

by Girlscout1987

Here we go again. After a few long months, I finally had the time to sit down and begin a new story. It's much darker than "A Cheap Rented Room", but I'm a real girl at heart. So the romance will come *i promise*. I've always wondered what would have happened, if Elphaba would have been caught by the Gale Force. So this is my version....*g* I hope you like it. This will probably be a ten chapter story, divided in three big parts. A **big thank you** (with kisses and hugs) to the people who nominated "A Cheap Rented Room" for best Fiyerba *blush* That really made my day. Hopefully you'll enjoy this story too!

_Crazybeagle_ did - as always - a **fantastic job** at editing this story. **Without her** it wouldn't be the same. And I wouldn't be so satisfied with the chapter. I had big doubts, but now....**Thank you** sooooo much!!!!

_["Wicked" is not mine. It belongs to Gregory Maguire and Stephen Schwartz.]_

**RATING: High T **

And **feedback**....well....it makes me a **very happy person**. And it makes me write quicker *little hint* ;)

* * *

**Chapter 1 – Barbarous Bastards Are Waiting**

‚_The night should be feared. It's the time where barbarous bastards are waiting for you around every corner, shining blades stucked into their belts. It's when the streets are deserted of the good. Only human venom is running through the alleys, like blood through your veins. The time of resurrecting fear. Black – the color of death – is enveloping you, stifling you, until there is no air left in your lungs. Anticipate the bad and collide with the worst.'_

"The night should be feared..." Elphaba repeated the words, her father had told Nessa and her so long ago. They had been little- Nessa had celebrated her fifth birthday, to be exact, and she herself had been around eight years old. Nessa had whined for hours about the big fair, which would visit their hometown. It wasn't often that life and fun were in their neighbourhood, and the small girl had clapped her hands in excitement at the possibility of seeing clowns and magicians.

"_Magicians? My daughters will not attend something so heretical. I forbid you from partaking in such immoral pleasure."_

Wailing. Small hands clutching his cloak.

Tears. Childlike brought up arguments.

Whining. Big and round eyes filled with sadness.

Nothing helped. Their father's decision was final. But Nessa's tragically beautiful face had softened Elphaba's heart and she couldn't say no to her baby sister. They'd waited until the house had quieted down and only only the usual sounds of a household at rest could be heard.

The sisters had only needed half an hour before they'd entered the big fair.

Colorful lights, intoxicating smells and the delicious taste of candy apples. Showy magicians presenting cheap card tricks. Clowns throwing pies in each other's colored faces. And laughter. So much laughter. Men trying to win stuffed toys for their dates… little children riding the carousel, their arms circling the horses necks… women watching the wild gestures of the pantomimes.

The sister's father had only needed an hour before he spotted them among the masses and brought them back home.

Elphaba's only solace had been the mild punishment of her sister.

„_I'm disappointed in you, Nessa. You know that your sister is ill-bred and immoral. You really shouldn't listen to her when she tries to persuade you."_

"_I understand father. I'm so sorry." Tears brimming at long lashes, chocolate brown eyes begging for forgiveness and and sweet round cheeks still apple-red from the earlier excitement."_

"_You're forgiven, my sweet," Frex assured his daughter, as if sensing her fears. "Nanny will bring you to your room now. Sleep well, my angel."_

He hadn't been so calm when he'd turned around to face his other daughter. His failure. The one thing in his life that was surrounded by ugliness and a cloud of bad memories. It was the hardest sort of punishment- to see the one thing he hated the most and to be reminded of the one he'd cherished above all.

The minutes after Nessa had gone to her room weren't spent in lectures or reprimands. Frex had punished his daughter with all his might. When he noticed her blank, tearless face, he stopped, his hand still suspended in the air. For a moment, his heart constricted painfully, because every bruise he left on her face and body was now etched onto his soul. But it didn't stop his hand from connecting once more with the hated green skin.

And again.

And again.

Until he felt too tired to continue.

And even with her split lip, the swollen cheek and bruised arms Elphaba had smiled when she'd turned her back on her father, still dreaming about pink cotton candy and warm candy apples.

The next morning at breakfast, Frex entered the room and smiled sweetly at Nessa. His hand petted her shining brown hair with so much love, it would have brought tears to Elphaba's eyes if she'd been able to cry anymore. He sat down next to her little sister and had retrieved a book out of his jacket.

"_I was worried about you, Nessa. It was late and the sun had begun to go down. I don't want to imagine what could have happened to you."_ Another soft caress of her arm and Nessa had already absorbed the love behind her father's words. Elphaba was unable to be sad, or to be angry at her sister. At least one of them was loved.

As he opened a marked page, Frex glanced only a second at his children before his loud and booming voice broke the silence: _"The night should be feared. It is the time where barbarous bastards are waiting for you around every corner, shining blades in their belts. It is when the streets are deserted of the good. Only human venom is running through the alleys, like blood through your veins . The time of resurrecting fear. Black – the color of death – is enveloping you…"_

Right now- twelve years later- Elphaba Thropp could only hope that blackness was engulfing her. It was her only hope that the soldiers wouldn't spot her bright green skin.

_Why can't I have indigo skin?_ she mused silently, while rounding another corner in Cantor, a small village only a few miles outside of the Emerald City. Her broom was clutched tightly in her hand, the dry skin over her knuckles cracking. Assuring herself that a few minutes' rest would restore her strength, Elphaba sat down on the dusty street. She could feel the damn letter in the pocket of her cape. She didn't need to retrieve it to know the exact words. They had pleaded for her help to fight against the Wizard. They had said that innocent Animal children had been slaughtered. They had lied and deceived her.

At least that would explain why there hadn't been one single Animal at the address they had sent her, but a group of soldiers from the Gale Force. It wasn't that Elphaba hadn't been close to death before. But she couldn't get over the fact that, once again, someone had deceived her. Another trap she had been lured into. And once again they had tried to throw water at her.

_Ice cold water. _

A scraping noise could be heard and Elphaba stood up hastily. A breeze had sprung up, blowing strands of black hair in her face. Fingering the annoying tresses, Elphaba listened carefully to the sounds around her.

A Bird singing an off-key love serenade.

The soft whoosh of the wind.

A tree branch scratching against a window.

But there was something different- a tangible tension that swirled around her. Someone was watching her. She could feel eyes on her body. A few spells were already fighting for dominance in her head as the young woman crept through the night. The fabric of her midnight black cape was clinging to her tense body, the skirt of her dress tangling between her legs. She stayed close to the walls of the houses, always on alert, ready to fight if she had to. Peeking around a corner, Elphaba saw a flash of green. And before she knew what happened, a jolt of pain shot through her. Completely shocked, the young woman reached up to retrieve a tiny dart from her neck. Realization hit her hard and she could feel bile rising from her stomach to her throat. Throwing the toxic little weapon away, Elphaba glanced around and listened carefully.

"I've got her."

And then there were footsteps.

Fast.

Certain…

…Dangerous.

Running along the street, Elphaba tried to be as silent as possible. But the poison had already begun to affect her body and mind. Sloppy movements…delayed reflexes…bleary sight. She stumbled across a large stone and somewhere in her mind she realized that she had sprained her ankle. But the pain was so dull… She would have no chance against the guards if they found her. Bracing herself against a wall, Elphaba took a deep breath. She had to regain some clarity if she wanted to escape. Concentrate. Focus...

...Think.

Leaning her forehead against the cold brick wall, Elphaba heard the footsteps grow louder and louder. A wave of nausea washed over her and she fought against a sudden urge to sleep. Just closing her eyes and never waking up again…it just sounded too alluring.

"I can see her."

The shouted words and the sound of rifles being loaded awoke Elphaba's will to live. Pushing herself away from the wall she began to run once again. The broom was not an option. She would be an easy target in the sky.

She just needed a place to rest.

She just needed to get to the forest.

Only a few more corners and she could hide. There was no clear thought left in her foggy brain. Just the need to flee. Like an animal, which is cornered.

_Breathing in. _

"The Witch. There's the Witch."

_Breathing out. _

"Shoot her. Shoot the Wicked Witch."

The guards were behind her. Shooting, bullets flying around her. A blinding pain in her left shoulder. A silent scream escaping her mouth, leaving her breathless for a moment. Adrenaline kicking in fast and she continued her journey.

Rounding another of the countless corners, she ducked behind a open door. There was still a chance to escape.

_I'm the Wicked Witch of the West, damn it. Nobody will bring me down. _

Elphaba was so sure of herself, that she hadn't even noticed the blood on the ground. Her blood. A thin line following every step she made. And they had seen it too. She was just too happy, too relieved, too incautious…

.............Until blackness engulfed her.

* * *

Fiyero Tiggular was restless.

Running around the Palace grounds, his thoughts were as tangled as his feelings. Something wasn't right. He could sense it deep down. The world had shifted ever so slightly and Fiyero had the suspicion that something was going on behind his back. Something big. His guards had seemed distant yesterday, and even last night in Gyorgi's tavern they'd tried to avoid him.

Stopping in front of the guards' training area, Fiyero pinched the bridge of his nose. He had to regain some clarity, while he was waiting for something bad to happen. He had tried different strategies. Sleeping, running, sleeping with Glinda, writing, and even reading. He had read the entire History of Ix without dozing off, for Oz's sake. His whole body felt like it was under pressure.

Grabbing one of the swords, Fiyero twisted his wrist a few times, before making some swings with the sharp blade.

As a young Vinkan Prince, he had learned it all. Fencing, sword fighting, archery, correct falling, abseiling from house walls, trees and mountains, conflict resolution, fist fighting, the proper handling of different guns and weapons, warfare. There were hundreds of ways to kill a human being. They had tried to teach him all of them.

Constitution.

Dexterity.

Toughness.

He could fight in full armor and a rifle or naked with just his fists. He had learned to plan and fight in one cycle.

Moving back, Fiyero rested his sharp blue eyes on an invisible aim, his body coursing with anger as he struggled to keep his movements swift and controlled. Fighting was much like dancing. Control your stance, your balance and your footing. One false movement and a disaster can be the consequence. And with this thought Fiyero's body began to fight and dance at the same time.

Jump. – Lifting Glinda up in the air, her skirts against his face.

"_Why can't you find her, Fiyero?"_

Dodge. – The other pairs holding their outstretched arms up to create a tunnel for the dancers.

"_I'm not sure if you really want to catch Elphie."_

A step to the left. – Right foot forward, close, left foot to the left, close.

"_The Wicked Witch is our enemy. We have to kill her."_

Strike. – Dipping the woman in his arms, her head nearly touching the floor.

"_Captain Tiggular. Why have you ignored the hint that the Witch would visit the village?"_

Gliding. – Shiny shoes on polished parquet.

"_I heard that water will melt her."_

Cover. – Her possessive hand on his shoulder, his on her narrow waist.

"_I swear to the Wonderful Wizard and to Oz that I will not rest until the Wicked Witch of the West is in our confinement, nor will I betray this country and its citizens. I would rather die than let the Witch live."_

When the Wizard had promoted him to the Captain of the Gale Force, his soldiers hadn't respected him. He was just the Prince from a far away country. Too handsome, too charming – clearly not a fighter. They had ignored him, made jokes behind his back, back-talked. It had taken only three days before Fiyero couldn't take it anymore. One of the guards had just implied that the Prince couldn't tell the difference between a charge and quick attack, when Fiyero grabbed one of the swords and attacked him. He had had no intention to kill the soldier, but there was only so much a Prince of the Vinkus could take. Even with his flaring temper, Fiyero had so much power wielding the sword that his opponents had soon realized they had nothing to laugh about. After that occurrence, nobody doubted his fighting skills. They just doubted his desire for hunting the Witch. And there were many speculations about his failure.

_Unbelievable feelings. "I have heard they went to school together. Maybe he feels sorry for her?"_

_Narcissistic motives. "Our handsome Captain is afraid that the Witch will transform him into a Frog." _

_Warranted doubts. "He's just too inexperienced to hunt down someone like her."_

_Silly accusations. "Too inexperienced? In my opinion he's just too dumb. Didn't you know that there's been a Tiggular wing at Shiz for a few years now? Word is that his father donated a large sum so that his son could graduate."_

But they all agreed on one thing.

"_He's simply incapable of this task."_

Fiyero halted abruptly, a cloud of dust swirling around him.

He could feel the power slipping through his fingers. Not long ago, he had been the hope for the citizens of Oz. Shining, glowing, triumphant. They hadn't doubted his abilities or motives. But the climate of public opinion had changed ever so slightly. They still waved at him, women still swooned, men still shook his hand with respect. But there was a hidden accusation behind their false smiles- that he couldn't achieve the one and only aim.

To kill the Wicked Witch.

Turning on his own axis, Fiyero leaped forward and struck his imaginary foe. Ramming the shiny blade into the ground, the Prince leaned onto the handle and breathed hard. Swallowing a few times, he closed his eyes for a second. Instantly, images of Elphaba flooded his mind. He had done everything to find her, but without success.

Next to following his own leads, he had to lure his guards down many false trails. He couldn't count how many times he'd burnt unequivocal evidence and made up lies. But each time he went after her, Elphaba had been away. Like air, she vanished, before he ever had the chance to catch up to her.

And then there was Morrible. She was like a blood hound. Each rumor, idea, vision and thought was instantly picked up by her, and she tried spell after spell to outwit Elphaba. Fiyero knew that Morrible felt that something was wrong. Her sharp eyes were always resting on him, following him even in his dreams. She seemed to judge his movements, words and strategies. So far she had no evidence against him, the old wretch. But this game of lies and deception was tricky. Only one false move and Fiyero wouldn't only lose his head and Elphaba's life, but their chance of a future together.

Wiping his dirty hands clean in his shirt, Fiyero shook his head, a fine sheet of sweat covering his reddened face. He was mad. Simply mad. _Their future together?_ As if Elphaba was interested in a romantic relationship with anyone at the moment. Pulling the sword out of the earth, Fiyero glanced at the black sky. Why couldn't he just stop thinking about her? Was this really an obsession, like Glinda accused him? But would there be this warm tingling feeling whenever he saw Elphaba's picture in the newspaper or on a house wall? Would there be the slight leap of his heart whenever someone said her name?

Fiyero cleaned the blade carefully from the dirt, before putting it back into its leather sheath.

There were no answers to his questions.

_A future together. _

What a stupid thought.

* * *

Ikarus Dandelion was sitting motionless on the branch of the old oak. He tried to ignore the strong need to piss, or to scratch the persistent itch behind his left wing.

Not…one…movement.

Instead, the stare of his little black eyes was fixated on the Captain of the Gale Force. Ikarus had seen many pictures of this horrible man in the newspapers. He was one of the men who were helping the cruel Wizard to murder all the Animals in the country. Atuna – the wise owl of their wood – had affirmed the rumors- how the Gale Force had locked Birds up into a cage and set it on fire. The time when they'd famished the citizens of an Animal town. Or their violent behavior against sick Animals, they had abandoned in the desert.

Tilting his little head to the side, the Sparrow tried to ignore his stiff neck. Now was the time to wait. He was pretty sure they would bring the green lady to the Palace. He'd just sung one of his famous love serenades, when he'd noticed the commotion under the tree. Flying high into the air, he'd watched how the green lady ran away from the Gale Force, tripped over a rock and stumbled around, like she had drunk too much ale. And never before in his life had Ikarus so loathed the fact that he was just a small Sparrow. He could only watch helplessly as the soldiers caught the green lady, threw her head against the brick wall, and carried her unconscious body away. In this moment Ikarus, understood his destiny. He had to help the green lady.

Like an arrow he had followed their horses until it was clear that they would bring her to the Palace. The bright green from the city had come into his sight and Ikarus had flown as fast as his wings could carry him to the castle-like maze of architecture, to spy out the grounds.

And here he was. Perched on a leafless branch, watching the Captain of the Gale Force hopping around as if he'd been stung by an adder. Completly mindless. There wasn't even an opponent or a sand-sack or something he could hit. He just swung his sword around in the air like a stupid fool. Ikarus had to suppress his sudden urge to fly over this cruel man and to piss on him. Instead, he noticed from the corner of his eye how the small caravan of horses and soldiers was coming in sight of the Palace. They would only need a few more minutes before they would arrive.

Preparing himself for his great rescue operation, Ikarus turned his head once again to glance at the Captain. He seemed to be deep in thought as he carefully cleaned his sword blade and put it back into its leather sheath. His movements seemed mechanical. He stared at the sky and frowned.

He was probably just thinking about another barbarous way to torture and kill Animals.

In this moment a small figure stumbled over the courtyard- presumably a messenger. Breathing hard, he braced himself against a pillar as he came within close proximity to the Captain.

"The Wizard wants to see you," the messenger gasped.

The Captain shrugged nonchalantly.

"They have her." A big smile broke onto the boy's face. "They have the Witch!" With these shouted words of joy, the messenger ran away, probably to proclaim the news to as many people as possible.

Ikarus didn't want to stay. He knew that the Captain would grin widely, a deadly gleam shining in his eyes. But some twisted sort of masochism urged him to observe the exact reaction of the man below him. Not in his wildest dreams had he anticipated the following events.

The sword falling onto the earth.

Heavy metal thudding. Dust swirling around.

Panic, fear, and maybe…hope shining in blue eyes.

Gasping for breath.

"Elphaba." A broken whisper.

And with that, the Captain raced in the direction of the Palace.

* * *

_tbc…_


	2. Deserted Of The Good

**HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY! I hope that 2010 started great for you :) **

**Sorry that it took me so long to post part 2, but I had a "creative crisis", which crazybeagle (my wonderful beta) helped me to overcome. So here is the second chapter - I hope that you'll like it. Thanks sooo much for the reviews on the first part. Everytime I checked my mailbox and got a notification that someone has written a review I giggled like a school-girl ;) Thanks for that feeling and for reading my story - it makes me happy! :) **

**A small note: I have written a one-shot, called "Hunting For Witches", which is kind of a prequel to this story. So if you want to read it, than just visit my profile (don't know why I can't copy/paste the link - sorry!)**

**As always feedback is highly appreciated. **

**Byebye, Dani 3**

* * *

**Part 2 – Deserted Of The Good**

Time was now a foreign concept for Elphaba. Seconds, minutes, hours, days – they were interwoven with each other.

She could still feel the heavy effect of the toxic shot they had given her. Her vision was bleary, only shadows and surreal images.

…Colorless…

…Distorted…

...Phantasmal.

There was a constant ringing in her ears which echoed in her pounding head. And then there was only excruciating pain.

The urge to vomit washed over Elphaba like a wave pulling her violently into the sea.

The pain of her gunshot wound hadn't eased a bit: instead the throbbing increased from second to second. Pain choking her. Lights blinding her. Hands grabbing, hurting her.

They had tethered her up like a wild animal. The chains prevented Elphaba from moving even the slightest amount. There was no chance of escape, no chance to hope anymore. Nobody would search for her. She had no one. Elphaba felt a teardrop making its way down her pale green cheek. She would die. This was it.

This was her end.

Their accusations hit her like pounding rain in the middle of November.

"You are the Wicked Witch."

"You burned down the house of my parents."

"Your spell killed my best friend's fiancée."

"We haven't had any rain for three months because of you. My family has nothing to eat."

"Do you remember the forty children, who died last summer? You are responsible for the epidemic in my hometown. YOU killed them all."

She wasn't. She hadn't. She wouldn't. She couldn't. She hadn't been involved in any of these occurrences. But they wouldn't believe her. The Wonderful Wizard had achieved his aim. She was hated.

The first punch to her stomach left Elphaba breathless for a minute. The second one – harder than before –made her lean forward, vomiting heavily until only dry coughs escaped her mouth.

Kneeling down in front of his victim, one of the soldiers with red hair and a freckled face titled Elphaba's chin up and caught her glance. Her hard, suffering eyes. Smirking devilishly, he looked at his other friends.

"Morrible said that you can't bewitch us when we prevent you from speaking or using your hands. In case you were wondering, the potion that Morrible put in that arrow we hit you with…" Leaning forward until his lips were touching her ear, he continued, "…It lamed your vocal chords. No chanting anymore. Now you are as helpless as our families and friends and neighbors have been…._Witch_," he hissed.

A shiver arced up her spine as Elphaba watched the other three members of the Gale Force. They had discarded their jackets and were staring at her with an unnerving determination. She could see her death in the black orbs of their eyes. There was no question that this was their ultimate goal.

"I've always wondered if she's _really_ green…" A slight pause, before another guard's eyes moved over her body menacingly. "…everywhere?" he added as an afterthought, his hand curled around a flask. Taking a long gulp, he grinned at his comrades.

"Well, you should check, Elchior. It could be useful information for the Wizard," a blond soldier replied, already standing up as if he wanted a better view. He couldn't be older than sixteen, his high-pitched voice a clear hint that he was still in the midst of the vocal change that came with puberty, and the thought that such a young and lanky boy was eagerly awaiting her execution made Elphaba even more sick.

Elchior crossed the distance between them and Elphaba stiffed instantly. Her senses were returning slowly and she felt pure horror as realization swept over her.

"You are younger than we thought, little Witch," Elchior sighed playfully, his index finger running down her jaw to her neck line. She refused to flinch away from the touch, but her body tensed automatically. When his large hands wandered lower and began to touch her breasts, Elphaba spit into his face. Closing his eyes without losing his countenance, the man swiped off her saliva. His reply was hard. Slapping the young woman across her face, he slowly whispered: "What a pity that you won't get any older." His words stung more than his slap.

"Elchior's right. She doesn't look frightening at all. Ugly and repulsive, but not eerie. I've always said that the Captain is incapable. I bet not only in the battlefield." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and another row of barking laughter filled the air. Elphaba could smell the cheap liquor on their breath.

The red-haired soldier from before grabbed her arm violently. Trying to jerk away from his touch, When he began to tear at the long skirt of her dress, Elphaba gasped out loudly, trying to jerk away from his touch. The fabric ripped as his tugging became more insistent and Elphaba could feel cool air hitting her legs.

_Oz, I haven't sinned. _

"Well, it seems her legs are green. Let's see all of her." Ripping. Pulling. Tearing.

_I haven't sinned. _

A sharp knife opening the front of her dress violently. Coldness. Cutting. Bleeding.

_I haven't…_

"Green as sin." Laughter. Jokes. Insults.

…_sinned._

Elphaba closed her eyes so tightly that she could see stars behind her closed eyelids. In your last moments on earth they say, you see your whole life played out in front of you. Elphaba had often wondered if that was true and what her summarized life would look like. But instead of seeing old mistakes and brief moments of happiness, she was only met by the images of the people she had left. The chances she had lost. There would be no more time for forgiveness and explanations. They would never hear her apologies.

_Glinda. Nessa. Doctor Dillamond. Frex. And Fiyero. _

His image was the most dominating. He had been the one to bring her through the cold nights in the forest. She had kept one of the flowers he'd given her on the train station. Safely tucked inside her cape, it had even been with her the first time she had defied gravity. Since then, the red blossom – dry pressed inside the Grimmerie – had always been inside a pocket of her dress. The one piece of him that had always been with her. A distant reminder of the possibility of friendship and maybe….well….something more. Something more…for _her_?

Somehow she couldn't forget him. Even after all these years, she could still clearly remember the day with the Lion cub. There had been _something_. The chance of something. It was frustrating for Elphaba's overly analytical that this was the one thing she couldn't inspect and dissect. It was better when she just ignored this stabbing feeling in her heart. Right now he was probably lying in bed with Glinda and they were planning their wedding. She wasn't sad or hurt by that thought. Because he had given her a moment of truth. More than most people get their whole life. And deep inside her heart, she hoped that he would never give Glinda that kind of truth.

And with this thought – Elphaba Thropp realized – she had finally sinned.

* * *

_Calm, cool, collected._ The three big "C"'s in his life.

Walking through the East Wing of the Palace with rapid strides, Fiyero didn't spare the interior decoration one glance. All the different shades of green seemed like a reminder that Elphaba was here. Probably in the dungeons, only a few floors beneath him. And there was no chance to escape [of escape]. Even in the Palace itself the Wizard had increased the numbers of the Guards. In the short time he'd walked from the training ground to his chambers, he'd encountered nearly fifteen of his men. And they all had a certain gleam in their eyes.

Climbing the wide stairs to the Wizard's private rooms, Fiyero broke out in a sweat. Again, he would have to act against his natural instinct. He had learned that a true warrior should trust in his instincts and his feelings. Only if you listen to the voice inside you, can you fight against outer forces.

Life in the Emerald City had changed him thoroughly. There was no chance to live life freely anymore. Instead there were protocol and constricting rules. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Fiyero knew that once again he would have to oppress his true desire.

_Storming into the room. Taking his dagger. Dragging the Wizard out from behind his damn dragon machine. Ending this whole disturbing chapter in Oz's history. And whispering in the dying Wizard's ear that he had always worked against him. _

"Well, what a nice dream, Fiyero," the Prince mumbled to himself before he stormed through the seven vestibules which lead to the Wizard's private audience room. Each of the chambers was decorated in a certain shade of the only color in the Emerald city. Jade, spruce, mint, emerald, fir sprigs, moss-green and algae. They all reminded him of her.

Finally he was standing in front of the large wooden door, upon which an ambitious painter had depicted the arrival of the Wizard in Oz. A colored hot-air balloon landing in the middle of a delighted crowd, a few of the people already kneeling in front of the arrival, an awestruck expression on their faces. The colored picture seemed outlandish against all the green surrounding it.

Straightening his uniform, Fiyero took a deep breath and knocked. Only a second passed before the door opened itself magically. Stepping into the audience room, Fiyero felt his blood boiling.

The Wizard sat behind a long desk which was normally used for conferences. He had a bottle of golden wine in his hand and was refilling his empty glass. The first time Fiyero had seen the real Wizard, he had been disappointed. Although Glinda had described him, Fiyero had always figured that there simply had to be some kind of aura surrounding such a powerful man. But the Wizard was only an old, small and podgy man. His hands were often shaking, his breath was constantly reeking of alcohol. When it came to affairs of state, his glassy eyes would often shine with childish excitement as if he was playing a big game. He found horrid delight in building and destruction. It was as if he was still a small boy, toying around with blocks, building towers before destroying them with a wide grin across his face. Simply tossing away the chessman he didn't like. They most often had the shape of Animals. Fiyero would have preferred a ruler who was absorbed with affairs of the heart. At least then he would be more predictable. But then there was Madame Morrible. And she would never risk her position of being the only woman in the Wizard's life.

Fiyero's gaze swept over the broad smile on the Wizard's face to the manicured hand right beside the other glass on the table.

Next to the happy man sat Madame Morrible. With the satisfaction of a fat cat who had just eaten a canary. Her hair was pinned up in a tawdry fashion, her face coated with chalk-white powder. Every time she grinned, Fiyero feared that her face would crack and break. Coral lipstick was smeared across the part of her face where the lips should be. Her maroon dress was clinging to her body, the high collar causing a double chin. Arching a painted eyebrow at him, she gestured at the chair opposite of her and the Wizard.

"Well, well. Captain Tiggular. How nice of you to grace us with your presence. We feared that maybe you've got lost on your way to us." The Wizard chuckled over his own humor, a quality which he was very proud of, but that was seemingly undervalued by others.

Bending his dark-haired head, Fiyero said formally, "I beg your forgiveness, your Highness."

"Forgiven and forgotten." Raising his glass, the Wizard carefully shook his wrist so that the golden liquid was softly sloshing around. A few minutes went by before he addressed the Prince again, with a small grin. "But Captain Tiggular, why so grim?" Sniffing at the wine, he toasted to Madame Morrible." Today we should celebrate! The Wickedest Witch there's ever been is in our custody. That's the best news we've had in a long time."

"Our Wonderful Wizard is right, Captain." Madame Morrible crossed her legs, causing the slit of her fluttering dress to expose a part of her thigh. Fiyero had to look away and suppress his need to gag.

"At long last we have achieved our aim. But you look as if…" Tracing the rim of her glass, Morrible studied Fiyero for a long moment, as if she was trying to read his face. But the Prince had learned to be the obedient chess mate they wanted. And he hated himself for that.

Morrible seemed pleased with his reaction and leaned back, relaxed. "…Well, let us not dwell on that subject. With the capture of the Witch, we can begin the golden age of Oz. Now, we have the power to change Oz, to remodel everything. A new era has begun. And you and our beautiful Miss Glinda will only gain popularity. Think, Captain. All the possibilities. Life will be much easier for you. Full of pleasures…without obligations. We want you to live and die happily. And I'm sure that Miss Gli…."

"Does she know?" Fiyero snapped, interrupting Morrible's vision of the future.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Does Glinda know that we have the Witch?"

"My poor dear," she chuckled as if he was still a small boy, asking her something entirely stupid . "You seem to have forgotten - surely in your unlimited elation - that Miss Glinda is on her way to "_The Galinda Upland Orphanage Of The Saved Lost And Poor Souls_". I have heard that there has been a terrible case of the yellow buttercup-flu. Poor, unfortunate souls indeed. The messenger we've sent probably won't reach her in time."

_What a remarkable coincidence_, Fiyero thought, disgusted. But despite his wish to voice his accusations, he simply shrugged and asked, "In time for what?"

Loud laughter boomed through the room, the Wizard holding his belly, Morrible nearly spitting out the wine. The two of them shared a intimate grin.

"For the execution, of course. It will take place the day after tomorrow, 12pm sharp. Tomorrow we'll have a big press conference with the pronouncement of judgment, a big praise on your work, too, a few children with flower bouquets, and so on. A very nice spectacle. Maybe we'll even move up the public court hearing of that ungodly family of Bears who raided a farmer. What's your opinion on the matter, your Highness?"

_Pronouncement of judgment. "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz has decided to sentence the Wicked Witch to death." Cheers from the stupid and blinded people. _

"No, I want sole focus on the Witch," the Wizard replied firmly, and again the childish gleam rose in his eyes. "It will be all about her. But maybe you can approach Father Hoan – the head of the 'New Emerald Church Against Animals'- movement. He's a genius. I have heard a few of his speeches and he has the mob twisted around his little finger. Maybe we should offer him a position in my staff. To keep an eye on him."

"I understand, your Highness," Morrible said. „And is 12 pm after your fancy? I think it would be the perfect time. The people can sleep in and then come to the square in front of the Palace. After the whole event, they can visit the adjacent restaurants. The owners will be delighted."

Fiyero felt sick. They were discussing Elphaba's death as if they were organizing a big celebration. He was only listening half-hearted to Morrible's suggestions about the decorations and fireworks, and he was simply ignoring the Wizards sick idea of handing out vegetables among the mass.

"Tomatoes, surely. Red will be a delightful contrast to the green of her skin."

His fists clenching and unclenching, his thoughts were only focused on Elphaba's wellbeing. He would rescue her. Damn him, he was a Prince, for Oz' sake. It was his duty to save her. For his honor and soul. Emotions were his only foes in this fight for her life. He could do it. He would prove himself to Elphaba. He surely could… _Right_?

"Then there's only one question left." Morrible's voice, coursing with pure menace, was jolting [jolted] Fiyero straight out of his trance.

"Which is…?"

"What sort of execution we'll choose."

Lacing his fingers together, the Wizard was already playing through a few scenarios in his mind. "Fire would be the best way, in my opinion."

"Yes, but the people are expecting us to drown her." Morrible interjected. "You know the whole water-will-melt-her rumor. I really don't know how that one started." Sneaking a quick glance at Fiyero's face, she leaned forward on the table, her folded hands pressed against her mouth as she stared at the young Captain, who was deep in his own thoughts. And in this one second – only a mere moment, when he wasn't guarding his expression - she could _smell_ his anxiety. He quickly downcast his sea blue eyes, but Morrible knew what storm was brewing. Years of dealing with the unimportant desires, problems and expectations of her young students had taught Morrible much about the emotional life of unbalanced human beings.

"Perhaps boiling water?" she asked eagerly, her eyes on Fiyero. "We could use boiling water."

And there where all the small signs.

His fist clenching.

Face a shade whiter than before.

Jaw tense.

Eyes shut a moment too long for simply blinking.

_Still a stupid child. _

And then Fiyero Tiggular made his first mistake in over three years. He followed his instincts.

"Where is she?" The question came out as a strangled sound, but aggression was clearly lacing his voice.

Arching an eyebrow, the Wizard tried to read his Captain's expression. "In the dungeons."

"With whom?"

"Four of your best men, Captain."

"Please Madame, tell me which men have you chosen?"

"Oh, Elchior, Octavius, Ybalt and Roan."

_Breathe. Just breathe._ But why was it getting so much harder to breathe?

Loosening his collar, Fiyero felt panic surging through his veins. The old Witch had chosen not only the most cruel, but the least obedient of his men. The future was slipping through his fingers.

"Your Highness. That has been a wrong…" Clearing his throat as he heard his voice squeak, Fiyero willed himself to be strong. He couldn't help Elphaba when they would suspect him.

"I fear that they are not the ideal choice. They all have very strong feelings toward the Witch. We have to keep her alive in order to give the people what they want. And it's their greatest desire to see her die painfully."

"Nonsense. I have given them the direct order not to kill her."

"There are worse things than killing."

"Well, how would it look if we present her to my citizens without a scratch? They are expecting me to punish and harm her. But if it will ease your doubts, Captain, you are free to observe their work."

Rising slowly, Fiyero took a deep breath before resuming his nonchalant behavior. Walking swiftly to the door, his hand had only grazed the knob when the Wizard's firm voice stopped him.

"But remember…I want her to be _punished_ for her behavior."

"When I'm finished with her…" He glanced at Morrible and smiled ruthlessly.

"…the Witch will wish she'd never been born."

She understood the hidden meaning of his words. That it was Morrible herself he meant.

And she vowed silently to destroy him.

* * *

There were quite a few disadvantages to being a Sparrow.

The smallness, first of all.

The lack of strength that came with that smallness.

The constant fear of being the meal of an animal.

And the certainty that humans would kill you without batting an eye.

All of these four circumstances were making it quite hard for Ikarus to come up with a useful plan. Gazing at the dark hole in front of him, the tiny Animal was wracking his brain for a tactic that would ensure the safety of the green lady. At least now he knew how to get to her.

While sitting on the balustrade of the Palace, he heard the delighted holler of the Guards. The memory alone made his wings shudder in horror.

Only a few minutes later he'd found a hole that seemed to be part of a ventilation system, which led to the dungeon. At the very least, there had to be some kind of connection to the room where they were holding her captive.

With a deep breath, Ikarus stared into the darkness as the darkness stared right back into his soul. Today he would prove that he could be a hero. Hopping slowly into the unknown, he felt a chill blasting across his light brown plumage. After a few meters, he found himself at a bifurcation, both dark and smelly. Listening intently, he thought that he could hear a soft whimper coming from the left. Continuing his way with a grim determination, Ikarus hopped through the many winding shafts. At each junction, he would yank out one of his feathers and mark the right turn. _Always be prepared_.

The little Sparrow couldn't wait to find the green lady, but at the same time, finding her would mean that he'd to take action. And he wasn't really sure what he should do once he was there.

The moment he could see light at the end of the shaft, his hopping grew more hectic. Ikarus was far too intelligent to simply fly into the room. Instead, he pressed his body against the wall and tried to stay in the darkness. His black eyes peered cautiously around the corner. And his breath caught in his throat. His yellow beak opened in a silent scream as he made an appraisal of the situation. But there was no time for feelings right now. He had a mission. A mission he must accomplish.

Four guards. _Heavily armed._

One victim. _Seriously injured. _

One door. _Tightly locked. _

His tiny eyes searched for the one essential part of his rescue mission. When he finally detected it, Ikarus had to remember his good manners to suppress cursing.

A key. Dangling around the neck of the biggest guard. _Well, well. Only a small problem._ Surely there was a solution…..He just had to find it.

Don't panic. Which facts have you already gathered? Ikarus asked himself, taking shallow breaths. To solve an equation, you have to calculate the unknown factors.

_One door. _

_One victim. _

_Four guards._

No…_five_ guards.

The door opened soundly and another one stepped into the room. From his position, Ikarus could only catch the flash of a green uniform, some sort of big golden medal fastened on his chest, dark brown hair.

_Another unknown factor. _

The four other guards quickly rose to their feet. A bloody knife fell the dirty floor. Two of the soldiers nearly stumbled over their own feet. One of them cursing – not so softly – under his breath. They tried to straighten their uniforms awkwardly while hiding a bottle of liquor at the same time. Ikarus would never understand why people were so addicted to alcohol. He had tried schnapps once and had been out for thirteen hours, and had found himself unable to fly for a whole day.

Suddenly something unexpected happened.

The guards saluted. The biggest one took a step forward. "Welcome, Captain Tiggular."

The Captain saluted in return.

Ikarus suppressed a sigh.

_One of the unknown factors has just solved itself. _

* * *

_tbc…_


	3. Human Venom

It's time for an **update**! Sorry for the long wait, buuuuuuuut – it's a really **long chapter** for all of you! :) I **adore your reviews** – they were wonderful and I was constantly checking my inbox for new one's. Please tell me that isn't paltrily ;)

**By the way**: I have promised one of you, who has reviewed "A Cheap Rented Room", a preview of one of my new stories. I'm so so SO sorry, but I don't have the messages anymore. So whoever you are – please contact me! I won't break a promise :))

Thanks once again to **crazybeagle** for betareading this part – the chapter was difficult and she helped me soo much with it. I can't tell you **how much her help means to me**!

**ENJOY! **

Byebye, Dani

* * *

**Part 3 - Human Venom**

Hope is a stupid thing.

Even in her darkest hours, Elphaba had always felt the bud of hope in her heart. Hope that one day would blossom into something wonderful. Through all the pessimism, realism and

rationalism, she had always known that there was hope inside her. Something good and idealistic that gave away her young age.

This night would change it. She just didn't know it. These unexpectedly cruel, twisted ways of fate.

Watching the men torturing her with such obvious pleasure made Elphaba's stomach turn.

What had she done so wrong in her life to deserve this kind of end? To be treated like a failure of nature?

"What do you think? Would the Wizard mind if I signature our work?" Grinning broadly, Octavius approached her once again, a thin knife in his hands, ready to be used.

Elphaba didn't hear the door opening, but she immediately felt the atmosphere change. She felt the absence of the knife.

"Drop it. Quick," hissed the young soldier, alarmed, his high-pitched voice terrified. Octavius grunted something brutal in response, but when he looked over his shoulder, his eyes widened. The other guards rose quickly to their feet. Panic erupted from them like hot air. Ybalt and Elchior collided without much grace, causing the table to nearly topple over. A bottle rolled onto the ground, spilling the cheap liquor.

Elphaba sighed, relieved when the bloody knife fell onto the dirty floor. Sweat trickled down her forehead, into her eyes – blinding her for a moment.

"Welcome, Captain Tiggular."

_This can't be happening. _

"Where is she?"

_Please, don't let it be true. _

But when she opened her eyes once again, a bloody tear running down her pale green cheek, she choked back a silent scream. In front of her stood Fiyero Tiggular. Still breathtakingly handsome.

"Fiyero." Her voice sounded so foreign to her own ears, only a scratchy whisper escaping her lips. Her vocal chords seemed to be still affected by Morrible's drug. A fit of coughing attacked her body, leaving her breathless for a minute before she found the strength to talk once again. "Thank Oz." Elphaba felt her lips turning up into a painful smile, her eyes beginning to tear up. He would save her. Fiyero would be the one. She had always known.

"Silence, Witch."

She flinched as if he'd hit her.

"Captain, as you've surely noticed, we have followed the orders of our Ozness," Elchior said in a steady voice, stepping forward. He'd noticed the exchange between his Captain and the Witch. It had been…disturbing. And Elchior was no fool. Tiggular had the position because he shared a bedroom with the blonde puppy. But right at this moment the soldier wondered which other bed his Captain had shared.

Without turning his back to Elphaba, Fiyero responded with a brisk "I know."

"I assume that you are pleased with our work?"

"Elchior, what are you doing?" Ybalt mumbled under his breath, poking his comrade. His freckled face paled when he saw Elchior's ruthless grin.

Finally facing his soldiers, Fiyero's grim expression confirmed Elchior's highest hopes.

"I am very pleased. As I see you have understood our Wonderful Wizard's wishes perfectly. But I hope that she'll be in better shape, when it's time for her execution. Right now she wouldn't be able to stand alone."

"Do you feel…pity?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, _Captain_…" He dwelt on the title, sarcasm tinting his voice. "After all those years of chasing, don't you have the desire to find complete expression? Don't you want to take vengeance on the Witch for all the crimes she's done in the past? All the people she's killed mercilessly? They can't take revenge. It's in your hands. We would feel honored, if you would end our work."

"Which work?" Fiyero snapped, glancing over his shoulder to look at her. But he averted his gaze so quickly that Elphaba hadn't the chance to read his eyes.

"We just wanted to signature her. To show the world that even the wickedest Witch is just a mortal. That even she isn't invulnerable," he hissed. "In fact…she should carry _your_ name on her green skin. So that everybody can see who has caused her downfall."

There was a long period of silence before Elchior grabbed his bloody knife from the floor and offered it to Fiyero.

She could only see his head shaking briskly, the dark locks tossing around.

Elphaba knew that Fiyero wouldn't hurt her. Even after years of separation he couldn't have changed that much. He wasn't human venom.

She watched his right hand going to his hip, curving around something. And before she could take one more breath, the light of the torches reflected in his drawn dagger.

She wanted to be strong. _Father would have wanted me to be strong_.

She wanted to be brave. _A Witch never cries, right?_

She wanted to be emotionless. _They all said that I am. _

She couldn't when silver metal met the green skin of her left hip.

Her surroundings faded slowly into a shade of grey, and everything sounded so distant. The laughter of the guards - hollow, like an echo. Closing her eyes, Elphaba tried to concentrate on her own breathing. Every intake of air seemed to be a great exertion of force.

_Breathe in. _

Cut.

_Breathe out._

Even deeper.

.

.

.

.

The pain throbbing in rhythm with her beating heart.

Screams later, her hair matted against her head, lungs tired, breathing ragged, blood boiling, sweat trickling, Elphaba Thropp didn't care anymore.

_There is nothing left_, she thought, desperately trying to hold onto consciousness. But the darkness was swallowing her.

Hope had died.

_Nothing at all. _

* * *

Fiyero looked at his hands breathlessly. _Her blood._ Never in his life had he thought that one day he would be the one to hurt Elphaba. But he had. Right now. And the proof would be etched in her skin forever.

Dragging his hand over his face, Fiyero tried to rebuild his nonchalant facade. The guards were still laughing mercilessly at Elphaba. And he couldn't breathe anymore. How had he been able to do that? He could answer the "why", but he didn't want to face the "how" at this moment. Because right now he was alone against four of his soldiers. There was no chance to escape with an injured woman. They would both be dead in a matter of minutes. Tucking the dagger back into his belt, Fiyero dared to look at the green woman next to him. Her eyes were closed, a pained expression distorting her face. The fresh cut on her hip was bleeding, a red drop gliding down her leg Her even breathing told him that she was unconscious. The pain and shock had probably knocked her out. Hopefully she wouldn't wake up for a long time. Her body needed the time to heal.

At first, he hadn't been able to see Elphaba. The bodies of the other soldiers had blocked his view. But when they had stepped aside he'd nearly fainted. He had spent years imagining their reunion.

_In a meadow. Her eyes shining brightly. Her skin glowing in the dawn. "I'm so happy to see you again." Her touch warm like the sun. _

_In a dusty alley. Green fingers encircling his wrist. Tugging him into a deserted warehouse. "I've wanted this for so long." Lips seeking each other hungrily. _

_Him rescuing her from the Wizard. Heart in his eyes, rifle in his hands. "I feared you had changed." Running away together. _

But the harsh reality had awoken him from his childish dreams. _Fairytales never end well. We just listen to the part we like. The "ever-after" is a story we avoid._

Her green skin had seemed sickeningly pale under the warm light of the torches. That was the first thing that had troubled him deeply. Only then he'd noticed that he could see all of her skin. He'd nearly averted his eyes at her exposed state. But he couldn't. There was nothing sexual in his stare, only the pain that someone as proud as Elphaba had to endure this malice. Her hands and feet were cuffed to prevent her from moving around. The one woman who had always been so careful to conceal her body wasn't able to hide anything anymore.

Fiyero's gaze had wandered over the injures marring her body and he'd suppressed a gasp. They had violated her too often. Blue and dark green spots on her stomach. Maroon bloodspots garnished her delicate skin like abstract art. There were several cuts, some even beginning to heal again. A wound from a gunshot, still oozing blood. Roan was proud that he had shot her in the alley. She would die if he couldn't get her out of the dungeon. The loss of blood had to be extreme and as Fiyero had scanned the ground around her feet. He'd swallowed back the rise of bile.

"We have been likewise surprised that her blood is red. Who would have thought?" Roan had told him, excited, his voice changing from high to deep. Fiyero had glanced at him and frowned at the enthused state of his youngest soldier. Roan was only a child, too young to be a supporter of something so barbarous and evil. But the glint in his green eyes had told Fiyero the ugly truth.

Turning his attention back to Elphaba, he had caught her gaze. Pain had been evident in her eyes, but Fiyero had known that Elphaba was much more hurt than she showed. No one could see the pain her soul had to endure. Even after all of this, she was still a fighter.

And when her lips had formed his name, only a strangled whisper escaping her lips, he'd nearly broken down. Her coughing had sounded horrible, her whole body shaking with the force of it. But then she had lifted her black gaze and had stared in his eyes. Like the one day they had rescued the lion cub. Like she was seeing him for the first time. The same intimacy lay in her coal-colored eyes, the same trust. She had even tried to smile at him and the hope that she seemed to associate with him shattered him.

So he'd silenced her. The only way to keep going.

The following actions had been necessary. Fiyero would tell himself this one sentence often in the future. To soothe his fears, his doubts, his guilt. It wouldn't ease them one bit. But at least he knew what to whisper to himself in the minutes following his horrible nightmares.

The dagger in his hands had burned his flesh even before he had to hurt Elphaba.

How could love and hurt be so deeply interwoven with each other? But the more urgent question was if there would ever be the chance to part these feelings in the future. By Oz, he really hoped so.

Elphaba would never forgive him. But as long as she was alive, he was thankful for whatever higher might seemed to protect them. Even if it meant that she would never return his feelings.

"Go and fetch some water."

"What?"

"GO AND FETCH SOME WATER," he screamed. Another crack in his mask.

"And how dare you to question my orders." Meeting Elchior's stare, he tried to form a grin. "I bet she'll enjoy a little bath." Their eyes remained locked for a few moments, before his soldier shared his lopsided smile.

A soft breeze disturbed their silent communication and both men looked around. Finding nothing unusual, Fiyero clasped Elchior's shoulder. "She'll atone for the pain she's brought upon your family."

Moving back, Fiyero rested his hands on the knocked-over table in front of him, his voice coursing with anger as he struggled to keep his tone even and controlled, he addressed them all. "I promise."

And they believed him.

_Poor fools. _

* * *

Ikarus sighed, relieved when the heavy door fell into its lock.

The Captain released a deep breath before running a hand through his dark hair. Only a minute passed before he turned around, a wild look in his bright eyes. Storming over to the green lady, he clasped her shoulders and shook her softly.

"Elphaba, Elphaba! I need you to wake up. Come on. Please. Wake up, Elphie."

_Elphaba, interesting name._ Pressing his body against the cold stone, Ikarus was confused. Minutes ago the Captain had hurt the green lady. Very much. But he had looked so broken when the knife had touched her skin. Like he was the one dying. Could it be possible that…. No, surely not….He's the Captain of the Gale Force. The enemy. But _Elphie_? Which cruel man calls his prisoner _Elphie_? Glancing back at the odd pair, Ikarus watched how Elphaba lifted her head slowly, her eyes blinking open. But her stare was glassy as she met the Captain's gaze. "What's happening?" she mumbled, slurring the syllables.

Fiyero's eyes widened for a moment in surprise before his expression returned to one of determination. "I need you to stay awake," he ordered, his voice strong and clear from angst or uncertainty. "I have the general key with me. I'll open your cuffs now. You have to stay upright."

Releasing his hold on her, Fiyero rummaged through his pockets before revealing a big key which had an extraordinary shape and sparkled.

_It glitters like wet grass in the early hours of the day_, Ikarus mused silently as he watched the Captain opening the cuffs at the girl's feet and hands. As soon as he had freed her, the green lady slumped forward like a dead weight. But the Captain was fast: his right arm slipped around her narrow waist as he prevented her from falling onto the dirty floor. Settling Elphaba on one of the chairs, he shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around her. Ikarus watched intently as the man in front of him stroked the woman's hair lovingly, a devastating sadness in his blue eyes. He really hoped that they could escape.

"Listen to me…." Patting her hand, the Captain continued to talk to the woman in front of him. "Listen to me, Elphaba. Please, now's not a time to give up. We still have a chance. But we have to hurry."

_Please wake up,_ Ikarus begged in unison with Fiyero.

But her head fell forward again, chin resting on her chest, long, wavy chocolate brown hair sheltering her face. "I'm begging you." Cradling her face in his hands, Fiyero shivered. "Don't give up. Not now that I have found you again." Pressing a kiss on her temple, he sank to his knees when Elphaba didn't react.

His thoughts swirling around in his little head, Ikarus had to suppress his urge to intone a sad serenade. The green lady seemed lifeless, but he could still see her hand twitching, as if she wanted to grasp something.

"Elphaba? Damn it. Damn….wake up."

Swooping down, the Sparrow looked around for a good place to land. Choosing the armrest of a wooden chair in front of the pair, he landed softly before digging his little yellow claws into the wood. Opening his beak, he harrumphed noisily, but the wailing of the Captain drowned his voice out. _Since when are Captains mollycoddles? _

"Use the alcohol. At least it's wet. It'll wake her up," he screeched as loudly as possible and felt a weird sense of satisfaction when the man in front of him jumped. Yes, his voice was unique. And he was proud of it.

But as the Captain turned around and searched frantically for the source, Ikarus nearly pounded his head against he armrest. Flapping his wings, he screeched a bit more before this Fiyero-guy looked in his direction. His eyes widened in surprise. Tiny black eyes stared right back, a bit annoyed.

"Who are…" he rasped, and then cleared his throat. "...Forget it. That's a good idea. The bottle, where is the bottle…" And off went the Captain to crawl on the filthy floor in search of the liquor. Seconds later he'd found the half full bottle under the toppled table. Uncorking it, he hesitated only a moment before he threw the clear liquid in the green lady's face.

Ikarus fluttered nervously as he waited for a reaction of the woman in front of him. Drops of the alcohol were running down her green face, glittering in the light. Combined with her pale color, she looked like a fever had just broken. _Not really flattering_, Ikarus thought critically.

As if she had heard his insult, Elphaba woke up abruptly. Head rolling back. Eyes blinking open. Hands grasping thin air. There was something distant in her eyes, like she didn't know what was happening around her.

Taking this as his cue, Fiyero moved into her field of vision. "Elphaba."

"Is this apricot?" she mumbled, crinkling her nose.

Fiyero stifled a laugh. "Never thought of you as a boozer. Alright Elphaba, listen to me. They will return soon. Here, you see this?" Revealing a simple sheet, which had been tucked in his pocket, Fiyero tried to speak very articulately. "You have to read it aloud. It's from Glinda's old schoolbooks from sorcery class."

_Well, Glinda seems like a real girl_, the Sparrow thought. The sheet was tinted a pale pink color. The writing was definitely feminine. Curved. Little hearts. Lots of loops. And he could swear that there was suddenly a whiff of roses in the air.

"Glinda?" Elphaba rasped, a small smile lighting on her features.

"Right, Glinda. But you have to read it. It'll help us to escape. I don't have the key to the dungeon."

As soon as Fiyero had spoken these words, a small key landed on top of his head. Cursing softly, he glanced at Ikarus, who cocked his head to the left side. _Oz, this Prince seems to be really slow. _

"It's from the fat one. Was easy to steal it. But there are enough soldiers to kill you in the blink of an eye. You can't escape so easily."

"That's why I need her to read the spell. It'll help us." Turning around to the woman again, the Captain sighed deeply. His prisoner or friend or enemy or soul-mate was nearly unconscious again. "Okay, Elphie. Everything will be alright. Read it. Please."

A sob escaped a dry throat, leaving her speechless for a minute. "It hurts to breathe."

Fiyero's gaze fell to the floor quickly as if he couldn't stand to see her fighting for every breath. But his hand continued to comb through her long hair, as if he wanted to calm her, while the other held the sheet of paper in front of the green face. "I know, darling, I know. But it's only this one paragraph. Try it. I believe in you."

Ikarus saw and felt the change in Elphaba's consciousness.

A moment of awareness. "You're like them."

Horror. Pain. Disbelief. Hate.

A moment of self-accusation. "I'm not. I hope I'm not. I had to…I'm so, so sorry."

Ikarus pecked with his beak on Fiyero's arm. "Later, Prince. Now is not the time for apologies."

Nodding quickly, Fiyero shoved the sheet nearly in Elphaba's face, his own eyes trained on the door. They had only minutes left. "Come on, Elphie."

"Elphie…always hated that nick…that nickname." She snapped, her breath rattling.

"Read this and I'll never call you Elphie again. Come on."

Ikarus saw how they both locked gazes. Coal black meeting teal blue. Like night and day. Hell and heaven. Bad and good? But there was a kind of unspoken communication as they looked at each other.

What followed next could only be described as truly magical. At least the Sparrow would tell his grandchildren about it with these words: "_The Witch recited the spell. But she didn't speak merely, nor did she sing. It was a perfect union of rhythm, cadence, melody and magic. Pure and beautiful. I never knew that Witches could talk like angels_." But that description was far in the future. Right now, Ikarus did his best to keep a tight grip on the armrest he was sitting on.

"In re incerta….cernitur nosce nahmen…" Coughing. "…Te ipsum mens sana….in corpore artika sano quae mutatio rerum." A weak intake of breath. "Per aspera ad astra"

There was no great light or poof. One second the strange pair had been directly in front of Ikarus' eyes and the next second, they had vanished. Without a trace. Plucking nervously at his feathers, Ikarus looked around the room. They were nowhere in sight. How could this be possible?

"Where…?"

"We're still here, my little friend." The warm voice of the Captain answered his question. "It's a spell of invisibility. As you seem to be one of Elphaba's comrades, I guess you know where they have hidden her broom?"

"In a small house next to the gates." Well, it seemed like his exploratory trip had been beneficial after all.

"I know which one you mean. Then let's go. We'll have to be completely silent, Elpha- damn."

Sighing. Bumping. Cursing. Grunting.

"What is it?"

"She's fainted." There were noises as if the Captain was throwing the body over his shoulder. "That's probably better for now." A light breeze stroked Ikarus' feathers and a moment later, the door to the staircase opened. "I'll meet you outside." And before he could answer the Captain, Ikarus heard soft footsteps running up the stone stairs. Seemed like he was all alone again. And he had rescued them. Alright, not all on his own. But without his help, they wouldn't be on their way to safety right now. Not to mention his input about the broom. But he figured he should probably get going. It would surely be better if he was already waiting outside for them when they came. The boy didn't seem to be very bright. His help would be necessary and appreciated. Who would have thought that Ikarus Dandelion would change into a humanitarian? Chirping happily, he flew back to the ventilation system and followed the lead of his yanked out feathers. Within ten minutes, he'd found his way to the west side of the Palace and breathed in the fresh air. It was a bit chilly, but the first streaks of red and yellow were lightening the sky, the moon only a mere shadow. The morning sun was already fighting its way through the mist. They would have to hurry. But Ikarus didn't worry about that. He loved dawn. _The early Bird catches the worm._

Settling himself on the small house next to the gate, he listened carefully, while he waiting for Elphaba and Fiyero to turn up. Two soldiers of the Gale Force were currently guarding the western gate. They switched positions every quarter-hour. The small house would shelter them from their sight, but they needed to be quick. Right now these guards seemed to be nearly asleep. One of them was leaning against a pillar, his eyes closed, while the other one was marching around the inner courtyard with his gaze fixed on the marble clock. Their sentry duty would end soon, which could be a problem for the Captain and the green lady. Well-rested guards would be much harder to elude.

"So, here we have it, Birdy."

Jumping up, Ikarus nearly jumped out of his skin. Turning around, he saw the green lady propped up against a wall, and next to her, the Captain with the broom in one hand and a broad smile on his face.

"How? And why?" Ikarus stuttered unintelligently.

"First of all, my friend, I am the Captain of the Gale Force. Or was. I'm trained in hiding and stalking. Second, the spell wore off after thirteen minutes. Thank Oz, everything is green here. Elphaba and I blended with the interior," he explained, looking at his green-colored uniform.

Ikarus nodded swiftly, trying not to show his hurt pride. He'd really hoped he could be of some use. Maybe a little fight…his peak was sharper than one would think.

"Good, and now how does this thing function?" Inspecting the broom, Fiyero turned it over, his hands running over the dark wood. "Is there a switch anywhere? Or is this like riding a horse?" He threw Ikarus an expectant glance, waiting for the Sparrow's instructions.

_Uh-oh_, the Bird thought.

"I don't know," Ikarus shrugged, and Fiyero frowned in response.

"But you're her friend. I assumed that she's told you before how she's able to fly."

"Not really." _I'm not really her friend. I didn't know that this thing could really fly and to be honest, she's never really talked to me._

But the Captain was far too engaged in his analysis of the broom. His blue eyes darkened, and he looked at it with a quizzical expression. Shaking his head in frustration, he took a deep breath and whispered a sharp "Fly!"

Ikarus watched expectantly. Nothing happened. Surprise, surprise.

But the man in front of him had seemingly changed his tactic too as he whined, "Come on, please?" Taking the broom in his hands, he balanced the broomstick on his palms. "Up." Throwing it softly in the air, he cursed when the wooden handle plopped right back into his hands. "Up, I said. Please fly." But again, nothing happened, and Ikarus shook his head. What a hopeless case. "Hopefully this broom doesn't need a spell to take off. I don't know one," Fiyero mumbled to himself.

"Maybe this isn't a broom, but a Broom," Ikarus thought aloud.

_Uh, death glare. _

"You know, I'm not really into the whole "sarcastic" thing," Fiyero growled.

"You can never know."

Sighing in resignation, Fiyero leaned the broom (or possible Broom) on the wall. "Alright. Master…..Broom, my name is Fiyero Tiggular. We don't know each other and I'm very sorry that I have climbed you without introducing myself first." He rolled his eyes as he caught Ikarus' satisfied gaze. "I'm an old friend of Elphaba. We know each other from Shiz. As you can probably see..."

_What a fool. _Coughing to get the Prince attention, Ikarus pointed on his own eyes. "The Broom has no eyes," he whispered dramatically. And once again the man in front of him glared.

"Okay, as you may have noticed…Elphaba has been injured, so I really need your help. If you could fly us away from here, it would be a tremendous help."

Nothing. Not one twig moved. _Stupid uncooperative log. _

Suddenly a crash broke though the silence, catching him and the Captain by surprise. They locked gazes and the Sparrow nodded curtly. Flying into the air, he spied the land.

Guards. At least thirty or forty were storming out of the Palace, running in different directions. He could hear screams of "Tiggular!" and "Traitor!" before another dozen emerged from the main gate. One of them was the fat one.

Flying back to Fiyero, he sat on his shoulder. "They're coming. The guards are coming," he whispered urgently.

There was no panic or doubt in his eyes. The Captain just glanced at Elphaba's unconscious form and frowned deeply. But there was a light in his gaze that gave Ikarus hope that the Prince wasn't as brainless as humans normally were. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Fiyero looked down at the broom and said in a smooth voice: "They will kill Elphaba and me if we can't escape from here." Turning around as if accepting his imminent doom, he added casually, "And let's be blunt. You'll be firewood."

A minute later they were flying across the sky.

Fiyero grasped the handle with one hand while the other was across Elphaba's waist, securing her lithe body to him.

Ikarus was still on the Prince's shoulder, singing happily.

_Who would have thought that Brooms are afraid of dying? _

* * *

tbc…

**Comments are always appreciated. Thank you.**


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